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Pot Liquor Love: Chef-owner Jenny Coco proves she can hang with the boys
Jenny Coco is well aware she’s an outlier as a female chef in a profession that’s still very much a man’s world, but she hasn’t let it deter her from carving out a successful niche in Omaha’s dynamic restaurant scene. After making a name for herself and her food at the Flatiron Cafe, she’s made her mark as chef-owner of J Coco, where she does American comfort cuisine in a fine dining way, and now she’s embarking on a second restaurant that will feature a distinct concept all its own. Chefs are artists and just like visual and performing artists, they develop a following and fan base, and Jenny Coco has cultivated a large and loyal group of foodies who’ve followed her from V Mertz to the Flatiron to J Coco. They will no doubt support her new as yet unnamed new place as well. My profile of Jenny for Food & Spirits Magazine (http://fsmomaha.com/) charts some of her journey and what makes her passionate about what she does.
Follow my Pot Liquor Love food blogging at leoadambiga.com and on Facebook at My Inside Stories. And since food and movies are such a good pair, remember to follow my Hot Movie Takes on the same two social media platforms.
Pot Liquor Love:
Chef-owner Jenny Coco proves she can hang with the boys
©by Leo Adam Biga
Appeared in 2016-2017 winter issue of Food & Spirits Magazine (http://fsmomaha.com/)
In the male-dominated culinary field men get the lion’s share of attention. In Omaha, Clayton Chapman and Paul Kulik headline a deep roster of acclaimed chefs. But at least one woman, Jenny Coco, has proved her chops compare with anyone’s, regardless of gender.
Coco doesn’t make a big deal about breaking down the doors to this exclsuive boys club.
“It takes a certain personality, male or female, to do this and we all have the same type of mentality I think,” she said. “Since our brains are wired very similarly, it doesn’t matter that I’m a woman. I mean, if I wasn’t meant to be doing this, I wouldn’t be doing it.”
Besides, she added, “I know I can hang with them.”
Like the best of her male colleagues in town, she’s been nominated for the prestigious James Beard prize. Unlike them, she never went to culinary school. She’s learned everything she knows working on the line, reading and absorbing things where she finds them. The Omaha native paid her dues at landmark Omaha eateries. She did her first professional cooking at the Baking Company in an all women-staffed kitchen – a rarity then and now.
Though she doesn’t consider herself a trailblazer, she’s well aware that women chefs are still few and far between and often face a tough road.
“I don’t want to see that keeping other women from jumping in and I’m finally seeing that change,” she said. “I can count on one hand how many women I worked with after the Baking Company 30 years ago. There’s just not a lot of women chefs. A lot of them still do pastry.
There’s so much more, there’s so much talent.”
She’s heartened by the many talents, male and female, emerging from Metropolitan Community College’s Institute for Culinary Arts.
“They’re woven into the fabric of kitchens all over the city.”
“There’s so many restaurants in this town,” she said, that opportunities abound for young chefs starting out here or going away for more experience and coming back to make their mark.
Coco really honed her skills at V. Mertz and the Flatiron Cafe, where she developed a following.
Then, in 2012, ready to break from her chef-for-hire career, she opened her own J. Coco restaurant. The chic, not fussy spot at 5203 Leavenworth is all about her fresh take on traditional dishes using refined yet simple techniques and fresh, quality ingredients. Like so many of her contemporaries, she passionately elevates American comfort food to new heights, whether the espresso and chili-rubbed pork chop or peppercorn and porcini-dusted ribeye.
Directly across the street is a venerable bakery and cafe, Gerda’s, that features a German slant on comfort food. It’s namesake proprietor is also female. Indeed, Coco said the stretch of Leavenworth from 52nd to 48th Streets includes more than a dozen female-owned businesses.
It’s a full circle life for Coco. As a girl she ate home-cooked meals that her mother, Joan Militti, who went from lunch lady to school District 66 food services manager, prepared. Now Coco’s putting a gourmet stamp on things like oxtails, short ribs and mac and cheese that she grew up eating.
“It’s just taking what everybody recognizes and maybe showing them something different or doing a new twist on things. I want to make sure my food is prepared properly and is as approachable and clean and simple as possible, so that we’re always on people’s radar. Maybe we’re not breaking down the culinary walls, but you’re going to get a wonderful meal here and we work very hard at that.”
Tradition is important to Coco, who located her restaurant in the former Wohlner’s grocery store. The iconic Wohlner’s occupied the brick building from the 1940s until moving a few years back. Before that, the structure housed another grocer, Newman’s. All this matters to Coco because her great-grandfather was part owner of Kotera & Sloup Staple and Fancy Groceries generations ago. A blown-up black and white photograph of that store’s proprietors proudly standing in front of their wares pops at one end of J. Coco. Adorning another wall are oversized prints picturing vintage goods from Wohlner’s.
Always wanting a neighborhood place of her own, she knew she wanted the Aksarben-Elmwood space as soon as it became available.
“It’s a beautiful building with a good history to it. We wanted to keep the neighborhood connection. There were such strong feelings after the store left. People were so mad. They liked seeing their neighbors here.
They liked coming every day and grabbing the food for that evening’s dinner. It was part of their thing, their day, their routine and then it was gone and being in this neighborhood here I know that’s who’s going to support us here day in and day out.
“Residents of this neighborhood and surrounding neighborhoods are dedicated, devoted, supportive. They prove it over and over again.
They’re not going past 72nd (Street) – they’re here and they don’t want to go anywhere else.”
She said she’s taken pains to make her place “very comfortable,” adding, “It’s like eating in my dining room at my house. We have family pictures up at home, so why wouldn’t we here?”
With J. Coco established, she’s about to open a second, as-yet-unnamed, spot on the southeast corner of 50th and Underwood, in a building that’s seen much turnover and recently suffered a fire.
“It’s a big space we’re planning on dividing to have two concepts under one roof. One side will be a lounge-bar with craft cocktails and late night food. That’s where the restaurant side comes in. It will keep regular restaurant hours and then close down, but the bar side will be able to serve food later. There’s nobody doing late night food.
“What I’d like to move into now is more playful. Like doing a food truck inside that serves street cuisine or updating the Cheese Frenchee. I want to feature small plates that people can share. That’s how my friends and I eat when we go out.”
She said she meant to take J. Coco in a similar direction, though she has pared down its entrees and expanded the starters, but she and her patrons weren’t ready for it.
“I wanted this to be a complete break from what I’ve always done
but the customers wanted to see an extension of Flatiron. That was my comfort zone, too. I knew how to cook that style of food.”
Having her own branded place in J. Coco meant quite a leap for her.
“After spending 20 years hiding in the kitchen to now having my name on the wall has been different. People expect to see me when they come. They want to talk to me. So, now I split my time half and half between the kitchen and the front of the house. It was difficult at first. But if people can’t put the face to the experience, they’re not coming back. They like that connection. They like you to remember their name or their favorite drink or entree, and that’s nice, too, because people have been supporting me for so many years. It’s just a small gesture to be able to thank them face to face.”
She’s out front more, too, because she’s overseeing construction of the second restaurant, which she expects to open May 1 or after.
Another reason her kitchen time’s reduced these days is that she has a capable cook in Pedro Garcia, who was with her many years at Flatiron before following her to J. Coco. Another member of the kitchen team she led at Flatiron also followed her to her restaurant.
“They’re just blossoming and that was my goal. At Flatiron I got to spread my wings and experiment and teach myself and that’s the kind of kitchen I want here. While I might not be cooking every day, I’m a resource. But mainly it’s their turn and they’re taking the ball and running with it. If I’m there blocking their rise, then what’s the point.”
She said whether cooking in the back or meeting-greeting up front, it’s evident how much more sophisticated diners’ palates have become.
“The Food Network and Food Channel have brought a great education to everybody,” she said. “People are more engaged with what they’re eating. They want to talk it about more. They want more explanation.
People want to know what they’re eating, where it’s from. They want to feel involved, where years ago I think they just wanted to be told what to eat. They just don’t want to be told anymore.”
She said diners want farm to table food that showcase fresh, local, organic, sustainable products, which are the same things Coco strives to provide with the help of area small growers and producers. While she said ingredients once difficult to find here are now available, more work needs to be done to cultivate farmer-chef relationships in order to take full advantage of Nebraska’s vast arable land.
Coco said the restaurant business isn’t for everyone because of the long, crazy hours that mean missing family events.
“I know what I’ve given up,” said Coco, who’s married with two step-daughters.
Knowing that her artistry satisfies patrons makes it all worthwhile.
“When people love it, well, what could be better. I have a talent, a gift and I want to share it and when people love it that’s pretty amazing. When the room’s humming, it’s a pretty awesome feeling, it really is.
There’s like no better feeling.”
Coco’s never been tempted to try her hand outside her hometown.
“I don’t mind being in a little pond if I can be a little bit bigger fish.”
Now that J. Coco’s going on five years, she wants it to be an institution.
“I want to be here for the long haul. We don’t have to be top of the heap – we just want to be part of the heap. Slow and steady wins the race, We’re here to finish.”
Business is good.
“I think we’re doing okay. Our weekends are always booked. You always need reservations.”
Frequent parties and a brisk catering trade boost revenues.
Though several blocks south of the hot Dundee food strip that has Mark’s, Dario’s, Avoli, Pitch, Paragon, Amsterdam Falafel and others, J. Coco’s benefits from the foodies those places draw,
“Dundee had paved the way.They were already bringing people to the area when we opened. That was a big thing. We need more. That’s what makes it all work.”
Meanwhile, Coco’s doing her part for girl power on Leavenworth.
J. Coco is open for lunch Monday through Friday from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. and for dinner Monday through Saturday from 5 p.m. to close.
Call or 402-884-2626 or visit jcocoomaha.com.
Pot Liquor Love: Doing things the Dario Way nets Omaha two of its most distinctive restaurants
As anyone who’s even a little familiar with the evolution of the Omaha culinary scene knows, this burg has seen an elevation in quality and variety of cuisines, especially in chef-owner eateries that routinely push the envelope. One of the leaders in this movement has been Dario Schicke, a native of Bosnia who learned his craft in Europe and New York before making a dramatic impact here, first with Dario’s Brassiere, which continues strong, and now with his second place, Avoli Osteria. Two eateries within a block apart in Dundee, which boasts the best strip of restaurants in town can outside the Old Market, with two totally different cuisines and aesthetics. Dario has a big personality and a big story to match. This is my profile of him in the winter 2016/2017 issue of Food & Spirits Magazine.
Follow my Pot Liquor Love food blogging at leoadambiga.com and on Facebook at My Inside Stories. And since food and movies are such a good pair, remember to follow my Hot Movie Takes on the same two social media platforms.
Pot Liquor Love:
Doing things the Dario way nets Omaha two of its most distinctive restaurants
©by Leo Adam Biga
Appeared in winter 2016/2017 issue of Food & Spirits Magazine (http://fsmomaha.com/)
Half measures don’t cut it with Dario Schicke, the Bosnian chef-owner who bears a striking resemblance to Alec Baldwin. Schicke’s helped raise the Omaha culinary scene through a pair of Dundee restaurants dedicated to distinct, authentic European cuisines.
His Dario’s Brassiere and Avoli Osteria located within a block of each other on Underwood Avenue represent unique concepts at the upper end of casual fine dining. Dario’s features a French and Belgian-influenced menu complemented by imported beers. Avoli’s features northern Italian fare paired with wines of the region.
Each eatery contributes to Dundee’s foodie haven reputation. Though widely acclaimed, including a James Beard nomination for Dario’s, they were risky niche ventures made more risky by Schicke adamantly sticking to his vision. He admits he used to be even “more hardcore” demanding things be done his way but he’s relaxed some since putting together systems and staff that execute his vision.
His stubborn refusal to compromise makes sense when you understand all he went through to earn the right to do things his own way. He fled his homeland at age 20 only a few months after the Bosnian War erupted. His refugee experience began in Croatia before he moved to Germany and reunited with fellow refugees who could work but couldn’t travel. He met his wife Amy, a native of Kearney, Nebraska, at a Munich beer house where he worked.
He grew up in a restaurant family in Sarajevo. While surviving in Germany he worked various food jobs. Then he and Amy moved to New York City, where they soon took over a Greek deli that sold imported beers he set about studying. That search led him to train at the French Culinary Institute and he used those skills to transform the deli into a French bistro. The couple planned moving to the south of France when Amy got pregnant. The first of their two daughters was born in NYC. Amy got pregnant again. Then 9/11 happened – with the twin towers collapsing less than a mile away. The business suffered and the trauma led Amy and the girls to resettle in Omaha while a shell-shocked Schicke tried salvaging the business, then searching for a buyer until recouping his investment and joining his family here.
He briefly worked at the French Cafe before landing at the Market Basket. His classically prepared chef dinners found enough of a following that he and Amy invested everything they owned in order to open Dario’s. Its staple entrees and beers set it apart. For less adventurous diners it proved too much an outlier.
“At the beginning it wasn’t easy. I can’t tell you how many people would look at our menu and just walk out,” Schicke said. “We didn’t sell anything but Belgian beers, That was unheard of at the time. We lost a lot of business but it was the only way I could push our waiters and front of house staff to learn about those beers. All those beers didn’t exist in Nebraska, We had to special order them.”
Some customers resisted the hefty prices but he explained these hearty brews are far different than even domestic crafts. Besides, he argues, you get more for your money at Dario’s.
“Nobody has a problem paying $6 or $7 for a glass of so-so house wine with their meal, but in this case you get 11 ounces of the best of the best beer.”
People who tried it, invariably liked it. The same with the well north of $10 burger and fries, “I knew our burger and fries were going to be a hit because they’re delicious, but if we sold that for $6.99 that’s all we were going to sell. We had duck breast and scallops and mussels and crepes and chicken and pork chop. We brought our sandwich and entree prices as close as we could so we didn’t turn into a burger joint.
But even if you order a hamburger you’re still going to get braisserie service – you’re going to get bread and butter, a huge beer glass and water glass, both hand-washed and polished. You’re going to get all that, plus fries, for $11. Our fries are hand-peeled, hand-cut, soaked in water overnight, then blanched. You get what you pay for. There was nothing to compare to it at the time.”
He recalled a disgruntled customer who complained about a burger, fries and beer costing nearly $30 with tax.
“This guy told me, ‘I’m not happy.’ I was like, ‘Sorry.’ Two days later the same guy came in, even angrier, saying, ‘Damn it. I couldn’t stop thinking about that burger and fries.’ Exactly. So we just stuck with our passion and now the culture’s caught up with us.”
Then, with Avoli, he filled a local gap in northern Italian food. In keeping with that cuisine’s tenets, there’s no pizza or lasagna or spaghetti and meatballs on the menu, rather a curated selection of fresh, homemade and imported dry pasta dishes.
“Both of our places are focused on a region in Europe and that’s what we’ve stayed true to from day one. Dario’s ten years now and three and a half years with Avoli. We don’t change for any trends or influences. That was the idea. As a chef and restaurant owner I really want to commit to the style and region we’re going to represent. We don’t want to deviate in any way.”
He couldn’t have crested more different eateries.
“They are so opposite these two restaurants that I can’t even mix a single person working in both places,” Schicke said. “Everything about them is different. There’s no overlapping menu items. I went so extreme even our security companies and computer systems are different. I didn’t want to open a second Dario’s – I wanted to start something new.”
Besides, he said, “the only way for me to step outside of Dario’s was to do something else.” With Dario’s already well-established and having a “great crew there,” he devotes more of his hands-on time to supporting Avoli with its complex menu and larger kitchen and dining room. But he still starts and ends every night at his namesake spot, Dario’s.
He, Amy and friends did the interior designs of both places themselves.
“It’s very personal to us. Why pay somebody a lot of money to tell you what you like?”
Schicke’s passion for getting thing right and his hunger for always learning new things finds him taking off to hone his craft at restaurants. To prep for Avoli, he said, “I went to italy and worked in a whole bunch of Italian restaurants because I wanted to do it right. I wanted to do what today’s Italian food is. So I went all the way down deep, from product to menu to how people eat, what they eat, how they source and how we translate that in Omaha.”
There are no fussy fusions at his restaurants. The dishes are created using the same ingredients and preparations as in Europe.
“At Avoli we use only Prosciutto di Parma and Prosciutto di San Daniele. We don’t cut our parmesan, we get a wheel of parmesan every few months that’s about 95 to 110 pounds. It’s like a $1,200 to $1,400 piece of cheese. That’s what we use exclusively. When we grate our parmesan it’s like snow flakes and it just melts into the pasta. It’s a huge difference. We use certified olive oils. We went out and sourced authentic Italian olive oils. We get double zero flour from Italy. San Marzano tomatoes, farm fresh eggs. That’s what we do.”
He acknowledges his ability to adhere to such standards is made possible by the independence he maintains.
“I’m really lucky I have people at home supporting me because it could easily be a situation where partners say, “We could be making a lot more money serving something else.’ But we don’t have investors – we don’t have a lot of people involved. I don’t have anybody telling me what to do.”
If he took shortcuts, it would only spoil things for this perfectionist and traditionalist.
“I do this for passion but also you have to make a living doing it. I have a family to raise, I have a house. You have to be able to build a life around it. It’s exciting and challenging. Running a restaurant, dealing with business aspects, being creative and cooking every day for two places, not easy, and a lot of times not fun. To mix all that in one bowl, it’s rough. That’s when those Belgian beers come in handy.
“Raising teenage girls – I need stronger than Belgian beer to get over that,” he said, laughing.
In the restaurant business there’s no option but to be committed,
“There’s too many moving parts, it’s too expensive,” he said. “Our art is probably the most expensive art in the world. We have to have heat, air conditioning, plumbing, electrical. insurance, all this stuff to practice our art. You need like a thousand bucks a day to practice, so you have to be smart about it. I tell people, if you don’t have passion, just don’t do it, do something else.
“Otherwise, you’ll get burned out.”
He said the success of his restaurants is simply a function of “our crazy passion and not giving up – we just do what we do and I’m very proud of what we’ve done.”
Even though both places feature staples that never change, Schicke allows himself and his chefs freedom to experiment with new dishes. He recently introduced Avoli staff and diners to Croatian pasta.
“You make like a bread dough, roll it really thin, then bake it. Then you break it into pieces and cook it like pasta, so it’s twice-cooked pasta that has like a bread quality. We’re going to serve goose and the dried pasta’s going to be rehydrated and cooked in those goose juices, with
chestnuts and all that stuff. That’s my comfort food.”
Some inspiration is tied to the seasons. At Avoli, for example, he said, “You get to the summer and it’s all about great olive oil, vinegars, tomatoes, basil. You can’t help it. But as soon as it gets colder, the nights are a little longer, that’s when I shine with flavorful marinades and braises. A little more complex food – using less expensive ingredients and making them luxurious,”
Meanwhile, he’ll keep pushing his skills by guest working in kitchens.
“It’s fun, it keeps me excited, I learn to do things better. Then I come back here torturing everybody with what I saw.”
Dario’s, 4920 Underwood Ave.
Tuesday-Sunday, Dinner, 5-10 p.m.
Saturday Brunch: 11:30 a.m.-2 p.m.
Sunday Brunch: 10 a.m.-2 p.m.
402-933-0799
Avoli Osteria, 5013 Underwood Ave.
Tuesday-Sunday, Dinner, 5-10 p.m.
402-933-7400
Visit http://www.dariosbrasserie.com and http://www.avoliosteria.com.
Pot Liquor Love
Pot Liquor Love
Not long after Pam and I began getting to know each other, we discovered several things in common, and some of what we found we both have a real passion for has to do with food. Having been in a previous long-standing relationship with an African-American woman, I already knew that the food I grew up eating and the food that many African-Americans grow up eating share many similarities. This, despite the fact that I am of Polish and Italian ancestry, two cuisines you wouldn’t ordinarily or immediately associate with soul food. But much of the food my late parents grew up eating and that they then weaned my two older brothers and I on is what could be called peasant cooking, which is essentially what soul food entails. The peasant connotation simply refers to the fact that people of little means, whether Polish or Italian or Black, historically make do with whatever is at hand. including what they eat. The humble rooted people on both my dad’s Polish side and on my mother’s Italian side certainly made do with what they raised and tended on the land and with what scraps of meat they could afford to purchase. The same with Blacks, whose soul food tradition derives from what was available from the sweat of their own brow working the land and what they could scratch together to buy.
Thus, the Polish and Italian cuisine I grew up eating, just like the Black soul food cuisine I was introduced to years later, features lots of greens, beans, potatoes, pastas (think spaghetti and macaroni and cheese), grains (barley, rice, grits) and lower end cut, slow cooked meats, including pig’s feet, cheek, hocks, butt, ribs, oxtails, smoked turkey wings and legs and beef liver, although some of those formerly low cut low priced meats have since become pricey gourmet items. There are pan-fried and deep-fried connections, too, between my roots and Pam’s, such as chicken livers and gizzards. and, of course, chicken.
My mom and dad split the cooking. Their go-to dishes included: smothered pork chops (his), bean soup with hocks (his and hers), oxtail soup (his), braised oxtails (hers), oven-baked chicken (his), beef stew (his), Italian stew (hers), pig’s feet (his), greens (hers),
Pam has expressed surprise over and over again when, upon talking fondly about various dishes her family enjoyed eating, I come right back with, “Yeah, we ate that, too.” She is fairly amazed even now that I have consumed more than my share of ham hocks, for example, and that I still cook with them today. We didn’t have collards, but we did have mustard and assorted other greens. My mom grew up eating dandelions and she’d once in a while incorporate them into our greens as well.
The whole idea behind this mode of cooking and eating is to stretch things in order to feed several hungry mouths without straining the budget. That means lots of soups, stews, casseroles, bakes and concoctions where you throw in everything on hand to make what Pam’s family used to call “stuff.” Every ethnic group has it own variation of this everything but the kitchen sink dish that is more about expediency than it is culinary style. But Pam and I both agree that there’s never a good enough excuse for making something that lacks flavor. We are both big on bold, robust flavors achieved through liberal seasoning and cooking methodology. When it comes to meat, and she and I are both classic carnivores, we prefer slow baking, roasting methods that produce copious amounts of natural pan drippings that we spoon right over the serving portions or that can be the base for rich, delicious gravies and sauces. You might say we are connoisseurs of pan drippings because we appreciate the layered, complex, concentrated flavors they contain.
The resulting “pot liquor” is produced whether cooking beef, pork or poultry, but you have to have cuts that are bone-in and contain some fat, too. Fat and bone, that’s where the real flavor resides, and all the seasoning and veggies you add only help enhance the flavor. Yes, pot liquor is the really deep, fat and marrow released and rendered goodness that gets deposited in those puddles, streaks and bits. We never serve a meat dish without some of the pot liquor over it. I love that term because it’s so apt to what the essence of pan drippings are. Rendered fat and bone is where it’s at and when enough of it is released and it gets to coagulating and browning to where those alternately gooey and crusty bits collect at the bottom and edges of the roasting pan, it distills right there in the oven or even on top of the stove into a heady, briny brew that really is best described as pot liquor.
Pam knows by now that one of my favorite food things to do is to take a hunk of bread and sop up the smear of congealed pot liquor left on the pan. Oh, my, that is a burst of flavor that rivals the best bites I’ve ever eaten, Not even a 4 or 5 star restaurant can duplicate that taste.
There are other pot liquors not exclusive to meat dishes, such as the brew created by cooking collards with ham hocks. Pam makes some righteous greens with hocks or smoked turkey lumps whose pot liquor is enough to get intoxicated on when sopping it up with corn bread or pouring it over most anything.
With the holidays coming up I am already salivating at the thought of Pam’s roasted turkey – she makes the moistest turkey I’ve ever eaten – and its pot liquor bounty that pairs well with the greens, the stuffing, the candied yams and everything else for that matter.
Sure, there’s more to life than food, but at the moment I can’t think what that might be. Cooking a meal for someone is as true an expression of love as I can think of. It is the epitome of sharing something precious and of delighting in someone else’s pleasure or satisfaction. Pam and I regularly take turns cooking for each other. Her home cooked meals bring me right back to my childhood and early adult years eating at home with mom and dad. She likes my cooking, too. It also takes her back. By now we both know what we like and what we don’t. Our tastes, with a few notable exceptions, are remarkably alike.
On our recent trips down South we experienced a few dishes with good to the last drop pot liquor love. Read those at–
https://leoadambiga.com/?s=southern+fried
Not sure whose turn it is in our couple cooking rotation. It doesn’t much matter though you see because whoever has the duty will be putting out big flavors. That’s what you get when you cook with love – flavor. The one cardinal sin we can’t abide is bland food. That and skimping on the pot liquor. When we sit down to dinner, it’s not so much “pass the salt” as it is “give me some more of that pot liquor, honey.”
I don’t mean to imply the lip smacking magic of our Pot Liquor Love is what keeps us together, but it sure helps.
Pot Liquor Love: Summer Miller’s book depicts area whole foods culture in stories, recipes, pics
“New Prairie Kitchen: Stories and Seasonal Recipes from Chefs, Farmers, and Artisans of the Great Plains”
I am very happy for my colleague and former editor at The Reader, Summer Miller, for the success she is having with her first book, New Prairie Kitchen. She has poured her passion for food and for the emerging Great Plains food culture that Omaha is on the leading edge of into her labor of love book. She has lovingly rendered the stories of chefs, growers and artisans involved in this movement as a way of life. She connected her passion with theirs and the result is a book of personal profiles and original recipes, all beautifully illustrated by Dana Damewood’s photography. My story about Summer and her book appears in the July 2016 issue of The Reader (www.thereader.com). Follow my Pot Liquor Love food blogging at leoadambiga.com and on Facebook at My Inside Stories. And since food and movies are such a good pair, remember to follow my Hot Movie Takes on the same two social media platforms.
Pot Liquor Love:
Book depicts area whole foods culture in stories, recipes, pics
Summer Miller mines the new prairie culinary landscape
©by Leo Adam Biga
©Photos by Dana Damewood
Appeared in the July 2016 issue of The Reader (www.thereader.com)
Omaha author Summer Miller came to write her Gourmand World Cookbook Awards finalist New Prairie Kitchen in the midst of a life reset.
More than a recipe book, Miller profiles 25 chefs, growers and artisans involved in creating “the new Midwestern table” and its clean-healthy- fresh food credo. Each subject’s represented by signature dishes they provided and by photo portraits Dana Damewood made.
“I knew I wanted to tell stories,” Miller said.
She specifically wanted to share stories of this loose community of creatives she met while researching the book.
“I was passionate about this. I really believed in showcasing Nebraska and these people. I felt it was an act of service to them and to the region and to the whole idea of it. This book for me was always about promoting the people. What I find inspiring about them is their willingness to work against the grain and twice as hard because they believe in what they’re doing. They just don’t do it easy, they do it right. That reinsured me to do that with my own craft.
“I learned so much from the people in it. It was such a growth experience – both the writing process and the human connections.”
She views the project as a collaborative. Her “thorough’ process entailed multiple interviews. When it came to recipes, there was “back and forth – tweaking, changing, conversation. My name is on the book but it was a major collective effort.”
Miller chose profile subjects – from Omaha Grey Plum chef-owner Clayton Chapman to Hastings Back Alley Bakery owners John and Charlotte Hamburger – who represent “people coming together to try and elevate our food culture.” “You didn’t have to be a James Beard-nominated chef to be in the book. I didn’t care if you had training or not. I cared that you used local products. That was the only filter. If we do something well here, we should use it and support it. They’re our neighbors.” Her subjects extend into Iowa and South Dakota.
Damewood’s photographic approach fit Miller’s vision.
“I needed somebody who could let people be who they were, who could work as a photojournalist and not have to have a studio set for everything, who would handle whatever came to us in the field.”
Miller worked closely with chefs “simplifying and making recipes more functional for the home cook,” adding, “I didn’t expect to become as involved in the food as I did.”
The project came into focus for the veteran Omaha journalist only after she left reporting-editing for a corporate job and then got accepted to graduate school, When a chronic back problem required surgery and Miller found herself pregnant, grad school got scuttled. Between post-op recovery, new motherhood and unemployment – she’d quit her job – her old identity no longer fit. The book transformed her. It began with this avid gardener and home cook meshing her food interest with her storytelling instinct. She filed freelance food articles and penned a weekly seasonal eating column. All informed by the emerging farm-to-table movement she felt drawn to. Through Emerging Terrain dinners and other collaboratives, she saw chefs and growers partnering.
“We have this amazing pool of chefs and when they work with producers who understand how to grow something beautifully and at what point the sugar content of this vegetable is just perfect and at what point these greens reach their spiciest peak and the best time to pick them, that really excites these talented people to be creative. That in turn provides us as consumers with really good food.”
The more she surveyed the scene, the more of a local whole foods activist she became. She said, “Being able to eat well and to eat good food can come at the fine dining level and it can also come at the casual level.” Even living in the country and knowing growers, she said “it’s still hard for me to source local food.” That’s why the back of her book includes a directory of local whole food chefs and growers.
Thus, the book and its themes grew out of Miller’s own life.
“I grew up working in gardens. Once I had a family food became even more of a counterpoint in my own personal life. I think the rest of the world is kind of coming along to that, too. This has been going on for years, but it’s just really now hitting the new wave of local food. I really care about home cooking, I care that people do it and I care that people understand you can do it and it doesn’t have to kill you. I really believe families want to eat better,” said Miller, who teaches cooking classes.
Then there are food’s social-emotional dynamics.
“Feeding people has always been a way to comfort others. It lets them know they’re tended to. It’s not new to show people you love them through food. That’s what we do when we don’t know what else to do.”
She rues the family dinner’s become “vilified” in a foodie culture that makes chefs celebrities and eating out the norm.
“I think it’s too bad food today has become elitist. That’s so sad. I don’t think food is an art. It’s a medium and a vehicle and like any medium you need to respect it but you also don’t make it more than what it is. It’s a way to feed people, it’s a way to connect people, it’s a way to nourish ourselves, our souls, our bodies, our families, our relationships, and we need to find our back to that. I’m a home cook advocate – I’m like a defender of dinner.
“I don’t honestly like the word foodie because it puts the emphasis on the food and I believe the emphasis should be on how food brings us together. These things are big to me. Being able to make something nice and to serve my family a meaningful, memorable meal, especially around the holidays, is how I show love.”
She said the pendulum’s swung too far.
“I think it’s great we know what arugula is now, but I think we have to be careful not to elevate food above the people eating it because it’s a means with which to share our humanity with one another and to show love and compassion.”
New Prairie Kitchen’s message has resonated enough that the book went into a second printing within months of its May 2015 release by Chicago-based publisher Agate.
Miller did an extensive book tour last summer. People came out “in droves” to see her and some of the chefs, growers, artisans she had appear with her at several stops.
“I was gone almost every weekend. I was pretty drained by the end of that. I was definitely ready to be home with my family.”
The book brought her to the attention of EatingWell magazine, whom she now contributes to.
She’s delighted some fans use the book as a travel guide to visit featured venues.
This expert author likens the local food culture to where recycling was decades ago. “It wasn’t yet integrated into life but now we all do it. I think whole food will become that as well – it will become what we do.”
“The best thing coming out of this is people learning what food should taste like after decades of having flavors dumbed down. Once you have a truly well-made hamburger and you learn just enough to do it better yourself at home, then you will not waste the time, energy, environmental resources to go spend $8 on a combo meal
“Learning what food is supposed to taste like in its most unadulterated form is the first step in healing ourselves and our families. You have to be able to eat well every day, and you can.”
Follow her at http://www.scaldedmilk.com/about-summer-miller/.
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